


now purple with love's wound

by TF Grognon (gloss)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bloodplay, Creepy Romance, F/M, Femdom, Outer Space, Porn with Feelings, Rope Bondage, Rough Oral Sex, abandoned & haunted places, facesitting, vampires maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24424744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/TF%20Grognon
Summary: Shu took a job escorting his ex to explore an abandoned moon. Then she changed.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7
Collections: Writing Rainbow Make Up Round, Writing Rainbow: Purple





	now purple with love's wound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wyvernwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernwood/gifts).



> Title from _Midsummer Night's Dream_ , 2.1.152.
> 
> The prompts for this were so incredible! ♥ ♥ ♥

The communications facility was situated at the top of a rise, about five klicks from the settlement itself. Like the rest of the buildings, its exterior was faded, the windows long since broken.

This morning, when they found the empty settlement, Shu had thought, then dismissed it as ridiculous, that the structures looked bloodless. The thought returned to him now as they approached the communications hut. They climbed what was once a path, now overgrown by the long, spindly mosses that scratched and tickled everything here. A railing had once hugged the path; only a few upright supports, rusting hollow, remained. These emerged from the mosses at jagged, painful angles.

Bloodless: every building seemed merely paper, drained of life and strength. The cheap tiles on the external walls looked shrunken, somehow desiccated, the shed scales of an old and ailing reptilian.

Shu was not prone to fancy, not as a general rule.

This place, however, was highly unusual. Walls, entire structures, seemed to vibrate slowly, just outside his peripheral vision. Sometimes the forest encroaching on the settlement jumped a good thirty centimeters when your back was turned.

There were things howling in the trees last night, he was sure of it. Jules said she'd heard nothing on her watch. Her boots and anorak, however, were damp to the touch in the morning, though everything else in their lean-to was dry. If he'd questioned her about that, she would simply have claimed intellectual curiosity compelled her to take a look around.

Shu climbed ahead of her, trampling the moss and clearing her way. He did not want his back to her. At least their height difference and the steepness of this hill mitigated some of the threat. If there were even a threat; he was probably being ridiculous.

He didn't believe in ghosts, but this place was itself a ghost. Jules was entirely too excited by that fact for his comfort.

The mining conglomerate which owned these moons had written it off as a failed exploration/exploitation venture. The last contact its residents had made with off-worlders was nearly four decades ago.

Until three cycles ago, when comms started coming in. They appeared on old channels, used obsolete auth-codes, and reported _status-quo/no-concern_. These were the sort of automated messages that zipped around the system all the time, Jules had told Shu. She'd come to his shop in the port annex, but she had to have an ulterior motive; she didn't just drop in on an exes to chat about interesting puzzles.

Those status messages weren't ever noticed until they stopped arriving.

"Except now," he'd said for her. 

She'd rolled her eyes and shifted her weight back onto her heels. Even with those magnificent boots, a pair of which cost more than his semi-cyclical pension, she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. 

"Obviously, or I wouldn't be here, would I?"

"Dunno. Maybe you just missed me." He ran his hands up and down his chest and leered campily. Smacked his lips, even. "Missed all of this."

"Don't be crude," she told him, her voice sharp.

She was capable of much greater sharpness, however. He knew that very well.

"Thought I was just a vulgar romp? Wasn't that how it went?"

She pursed her lips. "'Crass distraction', I believe was the phrase."

"Ah, of course," Shu replied. He sketched an ironic bow. "Thanks."

"For what?"

He bit the inside of his cheek before responding. She noticed; he saw the corners of her mouth deepen. "The correction," he said finally. "Thank you."

"Be at the hangar on time," she said, turning on those impressive heels, her cloak swirling after her, desperate to catch up. "Or the deal is off."

"I'm flying you!" he shouted after her. "You're waiting on me!"

He hadn't seen her for over two years. He hadn't expected to see her, at least in the flesh, ever again. (He had seen her, every now and then, on the viz net, doing chat shows when she published a new book, responding on panels as the designated glamorous feminist. These virtual encounters with her usually left him irritated, drinking more than he should, jacking off miserably in public toilets and kneeling for those who'd like to abuse his mouth.)

But she was willing to pay him half again his highest rate, and in full before departure, for a half-cycle's jaunt to some old moon. He wasn't about to turn that down.

He wasn't about to turn _her_ down, they both knew that. Neither was willing to be the first to say so, however, he out of pride and she from a strange sense of propriety. That waiting game was just one of the myriad tensions snarling between them.

"Lift me up," she said now. She pointed at the high, narrow window just to the right of the entrance. "I can shimmy in."

They'd reached the communications hut. Shivering in the gloomy twilight, he'd paced around the small facility and noted nothing out of the ordinary.

Well. Nothing _more_ out of the ordinary than this entire place.

"Why not use the door?" He moved to kick it in. If the hut were anything like the buildings in the valley, he just had to tap the door to open it.

"Shu, no!" She grabbed his arm and hauled him back. She was remarkably strong, always had been, but this was an entirely different level. He fell back on his ass; she'd tossed him as easily as a balled-up piece of lingerie.

"That's not included in my rates," he said, his head throbbing where it'd knocked the ground, as he tried to sit up. "You want to play rough, we'll need to renegotiate terms —"

She ignored him. Instead, she stalked up to the door and leaned in to inspect it. In one hand, she clutched the scanner she'd held since they'd stepped onto the moon. It was shrieking. Her other hand moved in slow, spiralling circles in front of the door.

"What are you doing, hypnotizing it?" he called.

She glanced over her shoulder and snarled. Her lips were redder, her mouth somehow bigger than it should be, and there were twice as many teeth, twice as sharp, than before.

"Lock me in," she managed to say in a human voice. Not her own, but roughly intelligible. 

On his feet, fire pounding in his chest and face, thunder in his ears, he hesitated. 

She was tiny and beautiful, but terrible now. Captivating like a fire's flames, radiant like them, and in constant motion.

"Shu," she croaked, then, in a whisper like wind, " _Tamir_ , please."

He pushed her at the door; it creaked open and they stumbled inside. She snarled in his arms, jaws snapping, and clawed at his face and chest. So she had claws now, too. The stink of fear and panic rose off her like steam, both sour and enthralling. 

In the dark room, old computers whirred and clicked at each other. For a moment, he had the sensation of entering a hive and disrupting the workers, but she leaped at him, and he lost the thought. He shoved her again, up against the far wall, and lashed cord around her wrists, then ran it up her torso and around her neck and her throat.

"I can still run," she said. 

He sank to a crouch in front of her and looked up. She was breathing heavily, her face covered with sweat.

"You want me to hobble you, too?"

If she wanted to run, all she had to do was kick him out of the way, spring past him, make for the door. But she didn't want to run; she was more scared than he, he could see that. She needed him to keep her from herself.

Her eyes were dark smears. Her mouth — her mouth was a horror unto itself, and he couldn't look away.

She tested the rope looped around her neck, and it tightened some when she lifted her bound wrists. He gave her a smile. "Learned from the best."

Her ropework, of course, had been every bit as elegant as it was maddening. She liked to keep him trussed with heavy, itchy ropes, then tie off his nipples, dick, and balls with shimmering silks that cut into the skin and left him begging.

She shook her head now. Her fangs clicked. 

"I want you," she said.

He cracked open like an overripe fruit. She must have sensed it; he was surprised he didn't sob, press his forehead to the floor at her feet, weep in gratitude.

He gazed up at her. Her small hands, tipped with claws, opened and closed in their restraints. He kissed the knuckles on one hand, then the inside of the wrist of the other.

"Shu," she said and howled. She ran her claws down his cheek. It stung, then went hot, as the blood welled. He touched the cuts, saw the blood run down his fingers, and reached up to her mouth to let her taste.

She all but devoured his fingers, sucking them clean and whimpering for more.

"What else?" he asked, on his knees now. He squared his shoulders and rested his palms on his broad thighs. She'd taught him acceptable posture and he'd never forgotten. "Tell me. Take it."

Her hips rose and fell as she growled. Despite her tied hands, she managed to claw away her trousers. He helped her, smearing blood on her goose-pimpled skin. Her thighs bunched and clenched, relaxed and tightened, as she spread her legs and her hips worked. Whatever she was saying, he could not understand in words, but when he embraced her thighs and slid forward, angling and tugging, until he was flat on his back and she knelt over his face, she howled with relief.

He was already coming to understand these sounds. They were so much like her orgasmic grunts and moans, noise he'd never forgotten, but polyphonic now, resonant and so much louder.

She ground her sex against his face. She'd never been _careful_ , but her abandon now was shocking nonetheless. She bounced on his chin, rubbed her slit up the length of his large nose, scraped outer labia back and forth in his beard.

She used to demand he be clean-shaven for their liaisons. Now, she soaked his hair and skin with her juices, bucking on his tongue as it sought her hole, her clit, anything. He sucked one inner lip until it was swollen, made her howls rise higher until they broke into shining singular notes.

He reached blindly to touch her breasts, but his arm knocked her face and she fastened on, chewing into him, gurgling with delight. His heart beat now in three sites — his ribs, his cock, and his arm — as he gave her everything he had.

His cock, trapped in his trousers, flashed a little numb. Shu held onto her thighs and forgot how to breathe as she rubbed herself up and down, coming onto his parched tongue and into the mess of his beard.

He came, untouched, groaning into her skin. It was less a pleasure than a jolting, sudden break.

On her hands and knees now, she was panting. "You have to get out of here. I'm not —"

Shu extracted himself with difficulty from the cage of her body. He bound off the wound on his arm with the fabric of her pants, then sat against the wall, head back, trying to get his breath. "I'm not leaving you, not again."

Her head swung around, like no human's could, showing him that red-black-and-chrome sneer full of fangs again.

"You'd have to make me," he said and shrugged. He smelled her all over his face. His blood painted her chin.. "And even I've got my limits."


End file.
